


After The Plot: Odd Ingredients

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles Week, Cooking, Cute Kids, Daddy Jensen Ackles, Daddy Misha Collins, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Food Kink, Inspired by Real Events, Kissing, M/M, POV Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may seem a little desperate to fly all the way to Los Angeles because he misses Misha, but Jensen manages to justify it. After all, he's bringing JJ along, and he knows his daughter always loves to see the guy ... almost as much as he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Plot: Odd Ingredients

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mnwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnwood/gifts).



> This story if part of a larger work: Please read [The Plot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970) before reading this piece as to truly understand the dynamic and history of the characters.
> 
> This addition is a (very late) birthday present to my friend, Madds. I hope you like it, sweetie!

* * *

            “ _Again!_ ”

            “Baby … it’s been replayed _seven_ times already. Don’t you want to do something else?”

            JJ stares at him like he just said a bad word—seamlessly morphing the glare into puppy-eyes with the ease of a blink. He tries to hold strong, but her bottom lip begins to shake—and _he melts_. “ _Fine_. _One more_ time, then we’re actually going to do something productive with our day … _k?_ ” Jensen pulls his gleeful daughter closer, holding her tight as she sits on his lap, nodding and staring at the computer screen. They’ve been sitting in his study for the past hour and a half, and what started as a quick moment he set aside to reply to some e-mails, turned into wanting to see JJ’s face as she watched that cat video Kathryn showed him. _Then_ , next thing he knew—he and his baby girl were on a YouTube-spree, chuckling at every stupid thing on the internet. With a quick _click_ of the mouse, the video begins to play for the eighth time. Jensen even tips his head to cue the intro—having memorized every beat of the tune by now. The title card flashes onto the screen: “Cooking Fast and Fresh with West”.

            Involuntary smiles crawl across both of their faces as Misha’s comes into the shot, looking wide eyed and adorable in his grey, wolf sweater.

            “Hi, Uncoo Mish!” JJ coos, and Jensen waves at the screen with her— _still_ foolishly hoping Misha will wave back.

***

            “No, Danneel is in _your_ neck of the woods.”

            “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

            Jensen rolls his eyes as he tosses another toy into JJ’s bath. “ _Yes you did_. I told you a few weeks ago. She got that part on that web series and they are doing a two week shoot.” He hears Misha hum over the phone, trying to recollect the information.

            “ _No_ ... no, I don’t think you told me that.”

            JJ hands him a rubber alligator, and he plops it onto her head without even thinking—just knowing that’s what she wanted him to do. She giggles and reaches her pudgy fingers to her hair, grabbing at the alligator and knocking it back into the water with a splash. “I swear, man. You’ve been around _me_ too much lately. My inability to remember shi— _crap_ is rubbing off on you.”

            “ _Crap?_ Are you near JJ or something?” Misha asks with a laugh.

            “Yeah, she’s taking a bath as we speak … say _hi_ to your Uncle Mish, baby …” Jensen hovers the phone next to her ear but she remains oblivious, stacking bubbles in the bucket floating at her belly. He pulls the phone back. “ _Well_ … she would say hi but she’s building a bubble tower.”

            “ _Ah_ , yes … an architectural endeavor of the _utmost_ importance.”

            Jensen smiles. “You know it.”

            “So, you’re on baby-duty until Dani gets back?”

            “ _Mhm_ ” Jensen mumbles while grabbing a cup off the edge of the tub and filling it with some bath water. He quickly moves it over his little girl’s head, dumping it out with a simple twist of his wrist—washing away her carefully constructed tower.

            _“Daddy!”_ she complains—laughing at the same time.

            “Are you pestering your daughter?” Misha infers from the other side of the country.

            An evil chuckle fills the air. “I destroyed the bubble tower.”

            He hears his friend’s humor tumble over the speakers. “It’s cavemen like _you_ that always sets progress back several thousand years.”

           Jensen can only smile and run his fingers through his daughter’s wet, tangled hair—loving the sound of the man breathing into the phone and the overall simplicity of this moment.

            “So … are you going to survive your temporary stay-at-home dad position?” The man finally asks, breaking the silence filling Jensen's head.

            “Yeah, man. _We’re having a blast_. And she and I made an agreement … _no poop explosions._ Ain’t that right, baby?”

            JJ still doesn’t respond, now, off in _her_ _own_ demolition project—involving stacked, floaty toys and an attacking alligator.

            _That’s my girl._ “Well, anyway … _it’s fine_. Although, I was talking with the Mrs. about coming out there for a few days—maybe taking the kid to Disneyland. You all could join us if you wanted.” He bounces his elbows on his knees as he sits on the edge of the closed toilet—glad that he found a seamless way of asking the man to meet up. He didn’t want it to sound like he was flying out there _just_ for Misha … even if he _was_ the one who proposed the idea. Even if the thought of Misha becoming an over-the-top goofball at the happiest place on earth _did_ make Jensen smile so hard, he thought his skull would split in two … even though he _knew_ , that _is_ the true reason he wants to go back to California … _but_ , he certainly doesn’t need Misha to know that.

            “That sounds fun—the kids would love it; and it would be nice for the girls to get some time together too … _and us_ —I miss you.”

            Jensen leans back, looking up towards the ceiling—letting out a heavy sigh around the sneaky lump that shot into his throat. “I miss you too, Mish … _a lot_.”

***

            JJ had slept practically the entire flight—as well as the car ride up to Misha’s … which took another two hours thanks to all the traffic on the 5.

 _She is going to be up all, damn night_.

            The little girl clings sleepily to his shoulder while he grabs their bags out of the trunk of the cab. He hugs her closer as he puts her tiny, pink suitcase on the ground, shutting the newly emptied trunk and tapping it with his hand after another moment. The car pulls away, leaving them alone and groggy on the cobblestone.

            A voice calls out from behind him. “Need any help?”

            Jensen turns around, already smiling ear to ear. “Yeah—but not with any of _this_ ” he muses, winking at Misha as the man bustles down the walkway.

            “ _Yeah, yeah_ … well, you may just have to help _yourself_ with that. But … I _will_ take this cutie off your hands!” Misha chuckles, reaching out for JJ who is already reaching out for him. He scoops her up, kissing her cheek and blowing raspberries into her neck. She wakes up instantly, shrieking and laughing, and throwing her arms about her uncle’s head—squeezing so hard, Jensen thinks she might just crush him.

            “West?” she asks suddenly, pulling back and cupping Misha’s cheeks as if she’s addressing the most important issue of all time.

            “He’s inside watching a movie, sweetie. You want to go join him? Maison is in there too … but, she’s currently in a time-out for thinking it would be funny to kick her daddy in the stomach while he was lying in the couch.”

            Jensen cracks backwards with a laugh, wishing for all the world he could have seen the look on Misha’s face when that happened.

            The man turns to him, squeezing JJ closer while applying an air of offense. “Yes— _it’s hilarious_ … but just wait until _my_ kids influence _your_ kid, and the next thing you know— _you’re_ getting attacked for the mere means of her amusement.”

            Jensen calms, wiping the corner of his eye as he looks back to his daughter’s face. “ _Nah_ … I don’t think I have to worry about that. The Ackles are a strong-willed bunch. We don’t get influenced easily.”

            Misha huffs—a smirk settling on his face as he sets JJ down, crouching with her and pointing in the direction of his front door. She’s already speeding away before he can even get upright again. The man watches her disappear inside, turning back in a blink to lean into Jensen’s space—making the smile fall from the freckled lips and coating them instead with heavy, hot breaths. His tongue is soon gliding across the edge of Jensen’s jaw and his thumb snakes beneath the band of his jeans. Jensen feels Misha smile as his body locks up. “You see, Jen … _normally_ I would believe you, but—I think an Ackles’s only _true_ weakness, is a determined Collins.”

***

            “ _Cook! Cook!”_

            The two men barely got inside before their knees were getting pulverized by little hands, grabbing them and pulling them towards the kitchen.

            “What? _Cook what?_ ” Misha asks, looking at his son’s wide, wondering eyes.

            “JJ wants to cook with me!”

            Jensen looks over to his daughter, who’s now sitting on his foot—her limbs, wrapped around his calf like a clunky anklet. She nods enthusiastically, confirming her friend’s comment.

            Misha raises his eyebrows as he glances over to Jensen.

            “She got really into your _Fast and Fresh_ videos. She’s probably watched each one at least a dozen times” he clarifies with a shrug.

            “ _Ah_ … I see. But, the _real_ question is, JJ …” he bends at the knees and sinks to the kids’ level, and West leans on his shoulder as soon as his father reaches the floor. “Was it a baker’s dozen? _If not,_ I’m afraid we can’t cook a thing.”

            JJ’s eyes burst as she looks back up to her daddy, _confused_ and _afraid_. Tears start to fill the rims and she buries her face into Jensen’s pant leg—understanding enough to know that _that_ means “no”. He instantly reaches down and collects her in his arms, and she curves against his shoulder, sniffling with disappointment. Jensen purses his lips, shooting an annoyed look back down at his friend. “ _Shh_ … baby, Uncle Mish was just being silly. I’m sure you guys will be able to cook something … maybe you can help when it’s dinner time, okay?” Jensen hums, rubbing his daughter’s back and smiling as he feels her instantly settle .

            Misha stands up again, taking West’s hand out of habit as the boy reaches out to him. “I’m sorry, JJ … I was just teasing. _Of course_ we can cook something … we can even make another video if you want. We can call it ‘Cooking Fast and Fresh with _JJ_ and West … and Maison'." The men both glance over to the open family room as a blonde head pokes up from behind the couch—still red faced from pouting. “ _If_ Maison is a good girl, that is!” Misha calls out, and the head disappears again. “What do you say, JJ? Does that sound good?” Misha pulls in front of his house guests, rubbing the little girl’s back—barely grazing her father’s hand as it keeps doing the same; but it’s enough to make Jensen melt.

            JJ turns in the crook of her protective arm and gives a small nod—finally smiling big, like she had _just_ realized what that all _really_ meant.

            Jensen freezes… _just_ realizing the same as well. “ _Um_ … man, I know _you’re_ cool with it, but I’m not really a fan of her being broadcasted all over the internet.”

            Misha smiles, sliding his hand from JJ to Jensen’s shoulder with the rise of his broad chest. “ _I know_ … I wasn’t thinking of making an _official_ episode—just something for our families. It will be a nice memory to capture.”

            A calm settles over him as he leans his head against his daughter’s—looking into Misha’s eyes and reading every word that would seem too intimate for little ears to hear; but Jensen nods … filling the blacks of his own pupils with answers, knowing that the man will understand them. Knowing that he will agree. Knowing that the idea of looking back on these memories many years from now makes the both of them happier than anything in the world.

            “Are you gonna kiss?” West grumbles, and both the men look down, instantly noticing the disgust on the boy’s face.

            “ _Maybe_ … what’s it to you?” Misha hisses dryly, stepping in closer to Jensen and squeezing his arm.

            “ _Ew_! Gross!”

            The man backs away again, crouching down to place his hands on West’s shoulders and Jensen feels himself start to sweat. Misha smiles, apparently changing his mind about turning this all into a joke "West, remember ... we talked about this. Everyone can love whoever they want to love—as long as they're not blood related, that is" the man finally chuckles, tilting his head and waiting for his son's acknowledgment.

            West only shrugs, and his face remains  twisted with displeasure. "But _kissing?_ " he blurts, sticking out his tongue and making his dad smile.

            Jensen bites at his breath, _still_ not used to the idea of the kids knowing about their relationship—and especially uncomfortable with it being discussed so openly.

            He watches as his friend sighs, looking his son in the eye and giving him a light shake. “You may think your aversion to romantic affection would be upsetting to me, son. But in all honesty, I hope you keep it forever. _Never_ fall in love. It’s a messy business.”

            “Oh that’s great fatherly advice!” Jensen spits, unable to help himself … he quiets as the man looks back up to him, and he slowly realizes what Misha just admitted to.

            “Well, what would _you_ tell JJ in this situation?”

            Jensen smiles, warmth relaxing his muscles as he thinks of all the recent events he’s just experienced with the man—and how, even with all the “mess”, he couldn’t have been happier with how it all left him feeling. He lets his eyes travel back to his daughter who has distracted herself with the movie still playing on the TV in the other room. “I would tell her to be _cautious_ , but don’t be afraid to keep an open mind either … because the people that come into her life might just surprise her … they might make her happier than she ever thought she could be.”

            Misha stands back up, rubbing his hand over West’s head before pulling him in close to his hip. He smiles, looking down at the hardwood floor and then, back at Jensen with half-mooned eyes. “That’s actually _really_ good advice … I may just steal it.”

            They stay quiet for a while, only breathing deeply and tilting their heads—speaking more silent words with nothing but _stares_ and _blinks_.

            Another groan erupts from below, killing the moment and immediately breaking their gaze. “ _Daddy_! Can I go watch the movie now? There’s no love-stuff in _that!”_

            Misha ruffles his son’s hair, chuckling as he looks back into the meadow of green that’s warm and welcoming, and has grown around him with tangled vines. “Yeah, West. _Go ahead_.”

***

            Jensen holds tightly onto JJ’s hand as she holds tightly to her stuffed chicken—now, well-worn and a little dirty from months of play. They follow Misha and West about the store like loyal sheep, matching their leaders step for step. He can tell—his daughter is just as uneasy as _he_ is. They don’t know how this works. They don’t shop this way. If they _do_ go shopping, they have a detailed list from Danneel, and specific directions on where to find everything in the store … and a schedule. But _this_ , this is a free-for-all and it’s making them _more_ uncomfortable than he cares to admit.

            “Come on JJ, you can pick out stuff too. Pick whatever you want!” Misha prompts, pointing the camera at her nervous eyes. She only grips her daddy’s fingers tighter and hides behind his leg.

            Jensen tugs at his daughter’s arm and rubs her hand with his thumb. “ _Uh_ , I think we’ll leave the shopping up to you two … we’re useless in grocery stores.” The camera is soon pointing at him and he wishes he had his _own_ set of legs to hide behind. His other hand pops up instinctively, blocking his face from view.

            “Oh, c’mon, guys! This will be a boring video if all you ever see is me and West!”

            “Hey!” West spits, looking up from the edge of the cart as he drops a pack of Oreos inside.

            “Sorry, son. But the public is sick of us. _We’re old news_ … that’s why we need to bring in younger, fresher faces—and your sister already screwed her chance at the limelight with bad behavior, that’s why she stayed home with mommy.” Misha turns the camera on himself, looking into it genuinely and sighing. “Sorry everyone—looks like it’ll be more of the same. This show will now be called _Cooking Slow and Predictably with the Collins Family_.”

            Jensen rolls his eyes and grabs the camera from his friend’s cocky grip. “ _Gimme that!_ I’m more qualified to shoot this thing than you are anyway.”

            “Oh yes … _Mr. Big Director Man_ —please, take over _._ ” Misha lets go easily with a flick of his fingers. “West … aren’t we lucky to have such an _acclaimed_ director shooting our cooking video?”

            West nods absent mindedly, already rushing down the aisle to grab some goldfish crackers.

            “We are _very_ honored, Mr. Ackles” Misha purrs, turning back to look past the camera and straight into Jensen’s eyes.

            “Yeah, _well_ … you should be” he grumbles, trying not to let on just how much the sound of Misha’s voice makes him want to kiss him.

 

            They spend the next hour filling the cart with a little of everything from every aisle—Jensen thinks he even saw some cat food get thrown in at one point. He shudders, knowing that at the end of these things, Misha always ends up eating whatever is produced, and he sincerely hopes that as the director/camera man, he can be spared from that. After all, his gag reflex _is_ pretty sensitive. He smiles, suddenly remembering _just_ _how_ tolerant Misha’s is. He begins to bow out his legs even more as he strides past a rack of bread—coughing to will down the excitement that’s starting to build below his stomach.

            “Don’t you think that’s enough, West?” Misha asks, breaking Jensen’s focus away from his possible, public embarrassment.

            “ _I guess_ … Oh!” West is running off again, rushing an open cooler case—reaching down and pulling a cheesecake from over the edge. In no time at all, he’s bounding back to the cart and balancing the fruit covered treat on top of the pile. “ _There!_ All done!”

            “Is that for dessert?” Misha asks and Jensen pans the camera back to the little boy’s face as he waits for an answer.

            West smirks, squinting his eyes and looking far too much like his father. “ _No_.”

            Focus is brought back to Misha—flushed with fear as he glances back towards the cheesecake. “ _Oh dear God_ , son … what are you going to make me eat?”

***

            “ _No!_ JJ! Put the potatoes in the bowl with the frosting!” West commands.

            Jensen continues to film even with the horrified expression on his daughter’s face. She’s helped her mother cook enough—she probably knows that those two ingredients shouldn’t go together; but, she hesitantly places the potatoes into the big bowl anyway. The boy nods approvingly just before taking a large spoon and stabbing at the new components, soon smashing them into the mix of chocolate icing, orange juice, goldfish crackers and horseradish. Misha stands behind the two, looking over their shoulders— _straight faced_ as ever.

            A small cry rings out from the corner of the room and Jensen holds the camera steady as he looks over his shoulder to Maison, sitting on Vicki’s lap. The girl angrily stares at her brother and JJ as they stand on chairs at the kitchen counter. He hits pause on the recording as soon as West hops down to go grab something else off the table full of groceries. “Don’t you think she can come join them now, man? I feel bad for her” Jensen pushes, gesturing back towards his friend’s daughter.

            Misha groans as he shakes his head in frustration. “She kicked me in the shin as we were getting ready to go to the store, Jensen … _that_ paired with kicking me in the stomach should equal a day of no-fun.”

            Jensen drops the camera to his side and adopts a pout that mirrors the little girl behind him. “Come on, man … look at her face!”

            “Jensen … you are a bleeding heart and _completely_ spineless around kids.”

            He pushes out his bottom lip further, batting his eyes at the blues in front of him.

            “Oh my … _ugh!_ What do _you_ think, Vick? Has she suffered enough?”

            Jensen turns to look at Misha’s wife as she smiles back at the two of them, hugging her daughter tightly to her chest. “I don’t know … _let’s see_.” She picks Maison up under the arms and turns her around to face her. “ _Mai_ … are you going to kick Daddy anymore?” The little girl tosses a heated glance in her father’s direction before turning round once more and shaking her head. “Are you going to give him a hug and say you’re sorry?” Maison shakes her head again—more vigorously than first time. Vicki sighs, “You won’t be able to cook with JJ and West if you don’t say you’re sorry.” The little girl eventually grumbles as she begins to wriggle in her mom’s arms, finally freeing herself and sliding from Vicki’s lap. She waddles over, stopping at Misha’s feet and reaching up with clasping hands.

            “You want up, Maison?” Misha asks and his daughter gives a small nod. He scoops her up, smiling out of habit and making Jensen smile too. “Do you have something to say to me?” the man begins, watching his daughter expectantly.

            “Sowwy” Maison huffs, not looking Misha in the eyes.

            He kisses her on the cheek anyway, and tickles her neck, instantly breaking her pout and unleashing a tiny-toothed smile. “Apology accepted, sweetheart. Daddy just doesn’t like to be kicked, is all … you can blame your Uncle Jared for _that_.”

            Jensen laughs. “So, does that mean you liked to be kicked before?”

            Misha peeks at him from the corner of his eye, tickling Maison’s neck a little more before setting her down to let her run over and join West in collecting more ingredients. “ _Well_ , I never really _liked it_ … but back in the day, I certainly _deserved_ it when it happened.”

            “Yep … _you sure did"_ Vicki laughs and Jensen looks at her again, understanding now that _she_ was the one doing the kicking.

_Maybe that’s where Maison gets it._

            She laughs a little _more—light_ and _airy_ … a worked-in sound that has obviously come from years of choosing to enjoy whatever life brings her. Vicki calms on a slow breath, looking up to Jensen with a smile. “Hey, what time is Danneel supposed to get here? I want to hopefully have this all cleaned up before then” The question brings a welcome change of tone to a room once filled with angry kids and bruised egos.

            “I think she said it wouldn’t be until after five. They need to finish a scene and then she still needs to go check out of the hotel and drive over here." He quirks up his mouth as he steps closer to the woman still seated in the corner of the kitchen. “Thanks for letting us all stay with you guys, by the way. I know Danneel prefers it over hotels, even though she’d never want to put you guys out.”

            “It’s no trouble at all. We’re always glad to have all of you over, and the kids enjoy it too” Vicki says, standing up shortly after to come take up a spot beside Jensen. “Especially if they get to do stuff like _this_ and drive us all a little crazy.”

            “A _little_?” Misha spits, lifting up his leg to rub his sore shin.

            “Well, _I’m_ certainly finding it all funny as hell” Jensen laughs, thinking back to how Maison blitzed the man’s leg a few hours before.

            “Yeah … I can see that—you’re enjoying this visit just as much as the kids are … aren’t you Jensen?” Vicki’s eyes burn with implication, making the freckled man’s neck catch fire.

            “Well … _you all_ are always a lot of fun” he stammers, trying to keep the conversation PG.

            “ _Mhm_ … _one of us_ more than the rest” she giggles, nodding over to her husband, who can only grin and shake his head.

            Jensen laughs nervously, lifting the camera once more and pressing play—hoping he can avoid where this chat is headed by getting back to filming.

            Misha instantly snaps into focus at the sight of the red light, giving Jensen the slightest eye roll before calling his kids back over to the counter. JJ had never left—standing at the edge obediently, a whisk in one hand, pulling the hem of her shirt with the other. Jensen frowns, knowing that she had more fun when she was _watching_ than she is _doing_ —and he wishes she would relax a little; but he knows overall, her apprehension is _his_ fault. When he’s around her, he’s _cautious-dad_. He’s careful and calculated, and worried about every step she takes—knowing that it could possibly harm her or scare her … but he’s slowly starting to realize, the lack of risk is scaring her the most.

            “JJ, what do _you_ want to put in the bowl?” he prompts after a calming breath. _She’s alright, nothing is going to happen. She can get a little crazy—it’ll be fine._ He urges his daughter some more—wanting her to know that it’s all okay. But she only looks around the counter—more confused than ever as West and Maison toss everything they find into the bowl. “ _It’s okay,_ baby. Put in _whatever_ you want … don’t you want to see Uncle Mish make silly faces as he eats it?” His daughter looks up with surprise, quickly scanning over to Misha standing beside her. He nods and gives her a reassuring smile. Soon, JJ is grinning, big and beautiful _just like her mom,_ quickly reaching out for the bag of garlic pretzels that’s sitting on the counter behind the bowl—dumping the entire thing inside once she wrenches it open.

            “Yeah!” West cheers, apparently liking his co-chef’s addition to their meal.

            Misha laughs, putting his hand on his hip and scrunching up his nose; and Jensen manages to keep the camera steady as he crumbles with the look.

            “ _So_ … what exactly is it that you’re making again, guys?” Misha finally asks, scanning all the discarded packaging that’s covering the counter.

            “Pasta!” West chirps, popping open a jar of beef bouillon and turning it over the bowl … giggling as the contents slops out in globs over the pretzels.

            “Oh, that’s _interesting_ considering how there is absolutely _no_ pasta in this what so ever.”

            “Pasta! I like pasta!” Maison chants, reaching her hand into the bowl and smooshing around the mix.

            The smell of the bouillon erupts, clashing violently with the garlic and the sugary sweet of the frosting. Jensen gags and drops the camera back to his side. “Oh my god … _I can’t_ … I can’t, that’s so nasty!”

            “Oh … come now, it’s not _that_ bad … wait until we cook it!”

            “Yeah! We need … we need a pot. Daddy, can you get a pot?” West asks, looking up at his father with hopeful eyes.

            “Of course, pasta needs to be boiled after all.”

            Jensen gags again, swallowing hard and trying to compose himself before returning the camera to his face. “This is going to be hell.”

            Misha turns back to him—a large stew pot in hand and a momentary break in character tugging on the corners of his mouth. Jensen watches the man’s throat dance on a gulp. “Yeah … it _always is._ ”

***

            “So, we just finished boiling the pretzel-potato pasta in a frosting/bouillon/horseraddish reduction—which has turned into this lovely, bubbling, brown paste—as you can see.” Misha pulls Jensen’s camera hand down so he can focus on the pot’s contents. “Now all we have left to do is mix together the cheesecake and … what— _what is that_ , West? Applesauce?”

            “Squash” Vicki calls out, pointing to the can of puréed squash that West had just emptied into the saucepan.

            “ _Ah_ , yes … the cheesecake, _squash_ and the ever-so-exotic, _cat food_ pesto sauce to go on top of our pasta to complete the dish.”

            Jensen pans back to the three kids—West, stirring furiously to break up the lumps of cheesecake Misha had helped him shove into the pot. JJ—adding in dashes of salt to the mix, and Maison, standing at her side, licking the chocolate frosting container and not caring at all what the other two are doing.

_I feel ya, Maison._

            Jensen’s stomach grumbles in spite of the horrid smells that are filling the kitchen. He hasn’t eaten since they were on the plane, and anything edible that they bought at the store, has just been added into the poisonous concoction before him. He hopes that once this is all over, they can order a pizza or something.

            “What are you guys doing?”

            Jensen turns around, startled by his wife’s voice and the sight of her standing in the doorway.

            “Dani! _What_ … I thought you weren’t going to be here until later! _Damn_ , I was going to have all this cleaned up!” Vicki says, smiling as she strides over to wrap Danneel in a hug.

            “Well, I actually hadn’t really unpacked much, so it was easy enough to cram it all back in my bag—also, we wrapped filming early … we lost the light due to the clouds.”

            Jensen pauses the camera and walks over to give his wife a kiss, taking special note of her make up and loving the way her hair is done— _they must have a really good stylist on this set._ “You look gorgeous, babe.”

            Danneel smiles at him, lifting up her hand to play with her half pinned back hair—twirling down in big, bouncing curls. “Yeah, I’m liking this look … I may keep it when this is all said and done.” A _clank_ comes from the kitchen and her eyes dart over to their daughter—covered head to toe in every food imaginable thanks to West. He decided about half way through the boiling of the “pasta” that they should all wear what they eat, to truly be _one_ with the dish. “And … _um_ … what is going on in here? _JJ?_ You look like you’re having fun …” but the tone in her voice makes her concern apparent.

            “Mommy!” JJ squeals, climbing down from the chair and rushing towards her mother’s legs. Danneel bends down and stops her before they can collide, obviously not wanting to get coated with the mess the little girl is covered in.

            “Hi, sweetie … I think you may need a bath before mommy can hug you. These clothes are from wardrobe after all.”

            JJ nods, smiling carelessly and probably not getting half of what her mother has said, but just happy that a hug _is_ on the horizon. She giggles before turning back to continue cooking alongside the other messy children. Danneel stands back up—eyebrows raised as she gives her husband an expectant look

            “She really wanted to do one of West’s cooking videos … and _um_ … well, _it’s one of West’s cooking videos_ ” Jensen offers with a sheepish shrug, knowing that’s probably the best explanation anyone can give.

            The woman nods slowly before letting an unpredicted smile creep across her face. “Well … isn’t it customary that the chef’s _dad_ eat whatever is made at the end of those videos?”

            Jensen chokes on his own spit, backing away and holding up the camera again. “Oh … _no_ , I’m the director for this little production.”

            Danneel rushes over and rips the camera from his hand. “No, _sorry babe_. I’ve always wanted to direct and you’re not going to take this chance away from me!” With that, she flips the screen open and presses play once more—quickly pointing the lens at Jensen’s nervous, flushed face.

            Misha wanders over to his side, putting his arm around his shoulder—smiling big for the audience they will never have for this creation. “ _Ah_ … yes, I love getting to share scenes with you … doesn’t happen enough!”

***

            “Okay, Jensen … if you would do the honors of pouring the pesto sauce over our potato, pretzel pasta with a chocolate frosting-bouillon reduction …” Misha gestures grandly to the pot and Jensen can only stare back at him with horror in his eyes. “ _Go on,_ Jensen.”

            He grumbles, wiping his sweaty palms on his sides before walking over to the stove and turning off the burner. The smells wafting up make his nostrils burn, and he turns around once more to breathe in deep—trying to collect himself. Three sets of little eyes stare up at him—as well as a pair of enormous blues and another grouping from their wives. Jensen finally rounds back and grabs the handle of the saucepan, lifting it up and walking it over to the bowl of brownish lumps sitting on the edge of the counter. Danneel comes in close, focusing the camera on his action as he pours one slop over another.

            “ _Ah!_ The smell is a _lovely_ mix of savory-sweet and dog vomit … wouldn’t you agree, Jensen?” Misha asks gleefully.

            Jensen turns back to him, shaking his head furiously while his stomach churns. “I don’t wanna do this, man!”

            “You don’t want to enjoy this enticing, _free_ meal? What kind of American are you?” Misha chides, walking around to his other side and pulling the sauce pan from his grip. He puts it back on the stove top before rushing over to the cupboard to get some bowls. “Who’s ready to eat?” he says, coming back to the island and splaying out the dishes in front of each child—slowly sliding one under Jensen’s nose as well and giving him a devilish smile.

            “I hate you.”

            “If you did, you wouldn’t be doing this right now” he whispers, low enough that the camera probably didn’t pick it up.

            Jensen can only growl … slowly letting the sound drown into a groan as Misha fetches a ladle and begins doling out servings.

            “It smells gwoss” Maison whines, looking at the dish in front of her.

            “ _Yeah_ ” JJ confirms, pushing her bowl away.

            “No it doesn’t!” West cries spitefully, pushing the bowl back in front of JJ with a huff.

            “I don’ wan’ it!” JJ whines, shoving it back again.

            “Me neeter!” Maison spits, pushing hers away too and climbing off the chair. In a second, she’s back in the family room, picking up JJ’s stuffed chicken and dancing it on the back of the couch.

            JJ follows the girl with her eyes—only to have them burst wide as her beloved toy gets caught in someone else's clutches. “ _That’s mine!_ ” In a moment, his little girl is off her chair too—rushing next to her friend and ripping the toy away.

            “ _Hey!_ ” Maison complains, trying to grab it back.

            “Mai … it’s _her_ toy” Vicki warns, turning to walk into the family room so she can mediate.

            “JJ, you have to share, okay?” Danneel adds, setting down the camera to join the other woman. Soon, both mothers are picking up their child and talking to each in hushed tones—hoping their little life lessons will stick.

            Misha sighs, walking around the kitchen island to take over the filming—obviously not as concerned with the chicken-drama as everyone else. “Alright, _well_ … I guess it’s just the three men for dinner. Jensen, do you want to start?”

            “ _No!_ ” Jensen spits, putting his hands behind his back and stepping away from his bowl.

            “I’ll start!” West exclaims, bending down to open the drawer with the spoons. He pulls one out quickly and fills it with a hearty helping of mush. He shoves it all into his mouth—eyes popping after another moment, just before he coughs and spits his creation back into the bowl. “It’s spicy!” he cries—tears are starting to fill his eyes. Jensen quickly reaches down and wraps an arm around the boy’s waist, lifting him up and carrying him over to the sink. He turns on the water and begins cupping handfuls to West’s lips, and the child laps each one up greedily … still sputtering and spitting, trying to rid his tongue of the taste.

            The boy’s disgusted sounds are soon muted by Misha’s laughter and Jensen glares back—eyeing him hard, disapproving of the man’s shameless enjoyment of his own son’s discomfort. But the look only seems to amuse Misha more. “ _Oh, West!_ I should have probably told you … horseradish has a kick to it!” he laughs some more, finally walking over to pat the boy on the back as he wriggles in Jensen’s arms.

            “Man … _that’s cold._ Can’t you see the little guy is suffering?” Jensen nods down, looking again at West’s red face and watery eyes.

            But Misha can only chuckle, shaking his head at them both. “Jen, if _you_ have had to eat what _I_ have … you would see how this is the sweetest revenge of all time.”

***

            “That was good pizza” Jensen whispers, staring up at the dark ceiling of Misha’s guest room.

            “ _Mhm_ ” Danneel hums, her back turned to him as she nestles further under the blankets and tries to fall asleep.

            “I wonder if that place is a chain. Maybe they have one in Austin.”

            “I don’t know, babe.” Danneel yawns, burying her face deeper into her pillow.

            “Did you see how many pieces Mish ate? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy eat so much before. I don’t know where he puts it.” He hears his wife groan and he bounces as she flips over to face him.

            “Babe … I am _really_ tired. I’ve been up since four in the morning, I’ve had a long day of filming, and it took me _two hours_ to get JJ down. Now, I know you’re excited to be here and hang out with your guy and all … but can we please talk about it in the morning? I _need_ to sleep!”

            He smiles apologetically as he looks at Danneel’s frustrated face. “Yeah, okay. _Sorry, babe._ I—I think I’m going to go out and watch some TV or something. I’m not really tired for some reason, and I don’t want to keep you up.”

            She flops over to her back and pulls the covers up tightly under her chin. “Yes … _good_ , go away. I love you, but go away.”

            Jensen smiles, chuckling softly as he leans over to kiss her cheek. She smiles back sweetly and he finds that now—all he wants to do is snuggle up with her, but he knows—that probably won’t help her sleep either. “Okay … I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, love.”

            “Night” she says with another yawn.

            As he slips out from the covers and pulls his t-shirt back on, he hears her start to breathe deeper; and before he can even open the door to inch out the room—Danneel is snoring softly, and it warms Jensen all over to hear it.

            He tiptoes down the hall and to the stairs—walking cautiously past Misha’s and Vicki’s door—knowing that he wouldn’t only be waking _them_ up with a stray noise, but West and Maison too. He pads delicately down the stairs, finally making his way into the family room and turning on the light. He jumps back when he sees Misha, curled up on the couch. The man’s blue eyes smile at him as he takes a deep breath and shakes off the start.

            “Couldn’t sleep?” Misha asks—his voice deep and gravelly from the length of the day.

            Goosebumps coat Jensen’s skin as he makes his way to his friend's side on the couch—sitting down with a plop. The man flips around as soon as Jensen is settled, nuzzling up against his chest and letting his hand wander across his thigh. “Yeah … not sure why. I was really tired before.”

            “Me too” Misha hums, rolling his head in to kiss Jensen’s collar bone. “But, _now_ … I am kind of wired.”

            “Yeah” Jensen agrees, letting his hand run through the man’s hair just before pressing his lips to the top of his head.

            Misha cranes his neck up, finally pushing forward to seek out the taste of his friend. Jensen wastes no time in helping him find it—pulling the man upright so he can press him back against the edge of the couch. Their tongues tangle hungrily as hands glide to and fro, seeking out skin and pushing aside clothing.

            “ _Fuck_ , I’ve missed you, Mish” Jensen says—almost _too_ sincerely, because that sneaky lump has wriggled its way into his throat again.

            Misha pulls back, stroking his fingertips against Jensen’s cheek and looking at him with all his love. _The lump grows bigger_. “It’s really only been about a month, Jen.”

            Jensen smiles and glances away, nodding because that is the reality. Jibcon was only a month ago. They had just spent a good week traveling all over Rome, drinking amazing wine, eating delicious food and enjoying each other’s company more than they even thought was possible. But all that fun made the following four weeks seem like a year—and the touches that felt so good while surrounded by ruins and foreign beauty, faded far too quickly when that plane left the runway. Jensen drops in to kiss the man again, keeping his eyes closed—trying to stave off the burn singing their corners. “I know … but—I …” he chokes in spite of himself, and Misha wraps his arms around his back, pulling him in and apparently, not minding the fact that all of Jensen’s weight is now crushing him.

            “I missed you too, Jen … _so, so much_.”

            Jensen curls his fingers around the back of his friend’s shoulders, gripping them tightly as he buries his face into Misha’s neck. He breathes him in, amazed that even with the lingering, toxic scents still floating from the kitchen, Misha’s smell can overpower them all—making his stomach growl with every type of hunger imaginable.

            Misha chuckles with the noise, finally patting Jensen on the back and urging him to sit up. “Are you hungry again?”

            Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “ _Nah_ … not really, I think I’m just digesting all that pizza.”

            Misha looks over his face, drawing his hand between them to trace Jensen’s hairline, as if he’s creating the man’s edges with his fingertips. “Well, _I do_ have the other half of that cheesecake in the fridge … I managed to keep it from getting added to the pesto sauce.”

            Jensen licks his lips as he looks at Misha’s pink ones, parted just for him, not really enticed by the idea of the dessert, but more than eager to lick it off the man’s tongue. “That sounds great, actually.”

            “Alright, I’ll be right back.” In a moment, Misha wriggled out from underneath Jensen and made his way into the kitchen—making more noise than necessary as he collected the cheesecake and plates, and began cutting the pieces for each of them. Jensen laughed as he watched the man scurry about, and he sighed once the guy finally returned to the room—two plates in hand, each with an oversized slice of sugary goodness upon it.

            “There you go … I gave us each a bit extra, that way … there’s not much left for West and Maison to eat.”

            Jensen smirks as he takes his serving. “ _Father of the year,_ over here.”

            Misha laughs, sitting down close to Jensen’s side and scooping a large forkful of cake into his mouth. “ _Hey_ —you haven’t seen those two on a sugar-high. For the safety of the world, I need to minimize their intake.”

            Jensen laughs as he stabs his fork into a strawberry that’s on top of his slice, pushing it down more to make sure he gets a bit of everything—including some of the crumbling crust. Soon, the fork is slipping past his lips and he’s humming contently with the taste coating his tongue. “This is _good_ ” he moans, quickly going in for another bite.

            “ _Mhm_ … West actually picked something appetizing for once.”

            Jensen smiles and looks over to Misha’s plate, noticing the man got some blueberries on his—whereas Jensen’s is sorely lacking. The man can barely react as he leans over, thrusting his fork at his friend’s dish, trying to steal the coveted fruit.

            “ _Hey!_ ” Misha gripes, pulling his plate away.

            “C’mon! I _love_ blueberries!”

            “Well, so do I! Get your own!”

            Jensen growls, still eyeing the round treasures rolling around against Misha’s thumb.

            With an evil grin, Misha picks one up with his fingers and pops it into his mouth, pulling back his lips to show the berry—pinched between his teeth.

            “If you think _that’s_ going to stop me from eating it, you couldn't be more wrong!” Jensen laughs, lunging forward and kissing the man—thrusting his tongue inside his mouth to seek out what he desires.

            Misha shoves him back, coughing a bit as he chews the fruit and swallows it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re going to make me choke!”

            “I wouldn’t if you would just _share!_ You want to be a good example for your kids, don’t you?”

            Misha rolls his eyes—finally bringing them back to glare at the man beside him. “ _Uh huh_ —and you’re exemplifying _perfection_ by grabbing at my plate and demanding everything you want?”

            Jensen smirks before taking another bite of his own cheesecake. “ _Fine_ … you’re right. May I _please_ have one of your blueberries, Misha?”

            The man raises his head up high, flaring his nostrils and nodding triumphantly. “ _Of course, Jensen._ Thank you for asking so politely.” Misha turns back to the plate in his hand, moving his fork expertly to stab one of the berries on the end of the prongs. He circles back, hovering the fruit in front of Jensen’s lips and hooding his eyes. “Open your mouth” he asks darkly—and suddenly, being a _good example_ for their kids is far from their minds.

            Jensen’s lips part slowly after he wets them with his tongue. He keeps his eyes locked on the glowing blues, even as the fork presses against the bumps of his pallet. His lips close again, pulling off the berry and breaking its skin along the ridges of his teeth. The tangy sweet swims across his mouth and he hums happily.

            Misha tugs the fork away, peeking down a moment and then drawing back with more lust filling his look. “Do you want another?”

            Jensen nods, his breath—heavy in his chest.

            His friend slants his eyes below once more as he moves his hand to balance the fork on the edge of his plate. With nimble fingers, Misha picks up another berry and carries it back to Jensen’s lips. Jensen sucks him in, nipping at the man’s tips and licking at the fruit between them. Misha shudders, sliding his body closer to Jensen as he continues to pull him into his mouth. “You’re _really_ enjoying this cheesecake, aren’t you?”

            Jensen grins across Misha’s knuckles, sucking harder as the man tugs them away. He quickly looks down at his own plate, pinching off a piece of his dessert and gliding it up to Misha’s chin. His friend smiles as he leans in to gobble up the bite—taking extra care to maneuver his tongue around Jensen’s thumb and moaning with sinful pleasure. Jensen snaps, yanking his fingers away and lunging forward—licking into Misha’s mouth to lap up the last bits of sweetness the man hasn’t swallowed yet. He breaks free after another moment, smacking his lips as he relishes in the taste. “I’m enjoying it more when it’s mixed with _you_.”

            Misha bites the inside of his lip—his cheeks flushed as his eyes rake over Jensen’s face. “Some odd ingredients _do_ go well together, I guess.”

            Jensen laughs, scooping his finger into the creamy treat one more time while reaching out his other hand, shoving Misha back and pushing up his shirt—revealing the soft, tan stomach underneath. He quickly smears the cheesecake in a messy line down to Misha’s naval, bending in just as fast to lick it up. Jensen stays close to the man’s shaking skin as his grins wide—digging his sights into the hungry cobalt rings staring down at him. “Well, _that_ I knew … I mean, just look at _us._ ”

* * *

 

[Next Chapter: After The Plot: Crashing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4834175)   


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. For more Cockles and Destiel fluff, angst and smut, check out the rest of my Ao3!
> 
> Also, find me on tumblr at: [castiel-left-his-mark-on-me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com/)


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